A Drink from the Lethe
by TheEntireEnglishAlphabet
Summary: Steve Rogers is looking forward to returning to his job as a swim instructor at Camp Asgard. Things get complicated when people start disappearing in neighboring forests. Rated M for descriptions of violence.
1. Chapter 1: Home at Last

_**Trigger warnings for each chapter's content will be at the head of the chapter. **_**Be that as it may, below is a list of every trigger warning that will appear in this story, which will be updated as new chapters are posted.**

**In order of appearance: mentions of enlisting in the army; broken engagement; mentions of disappearances/animal attacks; small amounts of blood; graphic description of a corpse/decomposition; recurring nightmares; neglect of physical health; near death experiences.**

* * *

**Trigger warning(s): mentions of army enlistment, mentions of broken engagement**

The second the car rolled to a stop in the campsite's gravel parking lot, Steve flung open the door and took in a deep inhale. The smell of damp earth and fallen pine needles greeted him like rainfall in the desert. The long drive over had made him wish, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that he had gotten around to fixing the window crank in his car. At present, only the passenger side window was able to be rolled down. That's what you get for driving such an old piece of junk, James had teased as he enjoyed the thick forest air from his side of the car. But now Steve had unlimited access to it and took another deep breath, letting it out in a contented sigh.

"Christ, calm down," James said with a laugh, getting out of the car himself. Though he teased, Steve knew the forest had a similarly calming effect on him. After months of living in the cramped city they shared an apartment in, they had finally come back for a few days to set up preparations for the summer work season. That was an entire week ago. The week had passed at a tiresome pace for Steve as he counted down the days to return to what he considered his true home: Camp Asgard.

Steve turned to look around the parking lot. "Are we the last ones here?" He identified Tony's car almost immediately, not through recognition but by the fact that it was always the fanciest, newest model and changed year to year, though never seeming suited for their offroads surroundings. Besides that he recognized Carol's motorcycle and Clint's jeep.

James shook his head as he surveyed the lot as well. "No, Proto and Arachnid hit traffic. They said they'll be late."

Entering the dining hall, they saw that they were both right; other than Bruce and Natasha, everyone else had already arrived and started eating dinner. "Buck, Captain, glad to have you," T'challa greeted them by their camp names with a warm smile.

"Glad to be back," Steve said. Starting tomorrow the only gatherings he was likely to see T'challa in were work meetings. The rest of the crew would often spend their time off with each other, whether in smaller groups or all together, but for him the workload never seemed to stop piling up. As the site supervisor it made sense, but Steve did not envy the position. Work didn't officially start for any of them until the next morning though which gave T'challa the time to relax and socialize.

Carol was in the middle of telling Scott a story when Steve sat at her table. "Hey Cap," she greeted him. "I was just telling Ant about how Nick lost an eye last month." He smiled, remembering the story from when she had called him a week later to complain about how Nick had refused to see a doctor for days before finally caving. He was one of the most stubborn people Steve had ever met, matched only by Carol herself.

"Don't stop on my account," Steve said, reaching across the table for the mashed potatoes. Camp Asgard, thanks to the hard work of the cooks, called into question the old stereotype of camp food tasting awful and he had missed the good, home cooked food that was served daily here. Neither he nor James knew anything about cooking, so they primarily relied on take out and prepackaged food.

"So he wears an eye patch all the time now?" Scott asked, to which Carol nodded. "Does he look ridiculous or badass? Probably both," he guessed.

"I don't think he's capable of looking ridiculous, that guy is way too scary." Steve turned at the voice to see a young boy he didn't know. When they made eye contact he said, "Right, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Peter." He held out his hand with an earnest smile.

"I'm Captain," Steve said, taking his hand in a firm handshake.

"Oh, we're using our made up names! Then I'm Spider," Peter said. "I'm a new cook here. I'm really excited to be working with Scott. I mean, Ant. Everyone I've met so far has been super nice, especially Mr. Panther. I thought he wouldn't be 'cause he seems so formal and he's the boss and all." The kid talked a lot, and fast, but Steve didn't mind. He'd already decided that he liked him.

"Anyway," Peter continued, "I almost didn't even get to apply for the job because my Aunt's worried about those hikers in Silver Falls. But I'm really glad I did."

Steve frowned."What hikers?"

"You know," Scott said, pulling his attention back towards him, "those two hikers that went missing in the state park."

"They found their bodies yesterday morning," Carol said.

"Yeah," Peter confirmed, "but they weren't sure at first. Apparently they were attacked by bears, so it was pretty gruesome. They had to use their dental records."

"Silver Falls is hours away," Scott pointed out. "What does it have to do with Camp Asgard?"

Peter shrugged. "Nothing, I don't think. Aunt May is just a worrier."

Steve jumped slightly as a hand clasped his shoulder from behind. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," the voice attached to that hand said.

He turned to grin at Natasha. "Hey, Arachnid. It looks like you won't be the only spider around this season." He gestured towards Peter. "This is Spider."

Natasha nodded at him as a greeting. "It'll be nice to have another eight-legger around," she joked with a slight smile.

"You guys get way to into your camp names," Peter said with a laugh.

"Just wait, kid," Scott said, "soon you'll be just as much of a whackjob as the rest of us."

Natasha met his eyes again. "I'm gonna move my bags into my cabin so I don't have to worry about it later. Want to come help me, Captain?"

Steve hesitated. Natasha was not the type of person to ask for help very often. She clearly wanted to discuss something in private. It was an easy guess as to what it was. There was no point in trying to delay it- he knew she would find a way to get him alone eventually- so he nodded and followed her out.

He walked with her as she lead them in the opposite direction of the parking lot, though not seemingly to anywhere in particular. They didn't speak at first. He focused on the sound of his steps on the dirt path. Even that was different here, the soft scuff distinctly separate in sound from the tap of his sneakers on city sidewalks.

After a few minutes of walking, they found themselves in front of the mountainside cabins. She stopped walking and Steve stopped beside her, finally looking up at her. She gestured to a bench. "Do you want to sit?" He nodded. She waited until they were both seated to speak again.

"How are things?"

"As in?"

"With her."

He swallowed. "Peggy."

His voice came out thickly. She noticed. It was hard not to.

"Yes."

Her gaze was steady and calculating. Natasha was always hard to read; he never was.

Steve reached into his shirt to pull out the engagement ring strung onto his necklace. "She gave this back. Then she left."

She was quiet again. And then, "How long ago?"

He heaved a sigh, putting his head in his hands. "Three weeks."

She didn't say anything, giving him space to talk when he was ready. It took a few minutes before he was able to fill it.

"I told her she was going to get herself killed. She said that if I tried to stop her from enlisting then I was the one killing her."

He felt Natasha's hand on his back. They sat there in silence for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2: A Night on the Town

**Trigger warning(s): mentions of disappearances/animal attacks**

_MISSING HIKERS SUFFER BEAR ATTACK_

_The bodies of two hikers reported missing Wednesday have been located in the woods near Copper Falls after three days of searching. Police confirmed rumors early Saturday morning that the cause of death has been ruled as bear attacks. Park rangers advise hikers to carry bear spray if worried about potential attacks, but assure the public that this is an isolated incident._

_'They were smart not to hike alone,' says park ranger Phillip Coulsen. 'It's rare for bears to attack multiple people. Unfortunately, these two just got unlucky. That's all this is.'_

"Hey mister Captain, what are you reading?"

Steve looked up from his day-old newspaper to see a bright-eyed Peter carrying a large plate of eggs. He couldn't help but return the smile- it was nice having another morning person around. "Story in the paper about those hikers you were telling me about yesterday."

"Oh, yeah, the bear thing," Peter said, sitting beside him. "My Aunt May thought that they were gonna find their bodies but that it was gonna be because they were murdered. I think knowing that it was a bear attack has made things worse with her, 'cause she's worrying more than ever."

"Tell your aunt there's no reason to worry," said Steve. "We don't have bears around here, mostly just mountain lions. And I've never heard of one attacking someone at Camp Asgard. They try to avoid us as much as we try to avoid them."

Their conversation was interrupted as loud thud sounded to his right. Carol stood at the edge of the table, rummaging through the duffle bag she had dropped onto the table. "Hey, so you know how I helped you get that kid out of a tree last summer and you said you owe me one?"

Steve was pretty certain that those weren't the words he had used, but he wasn't against helping out a friend. He folded his paper and set it down on the table in front of him. "Sure. What is it exactly that you need help with?"

Carol didn't answer at first, still digging through the bag. After a few moments she pulled out a battered business card and thrust it at him. "I need you to drive me to the vet. I can't take Goose there on my bike and technically I'm not legally permitted to drive a car."

Glossing over that somewhat worrying detail, Steve took the business card from her. Lawson Veterinary Clinic . Under that was a phone number and address. "What happened to Goose?"

"Hell if I know, I came outside this morning and found her bleeding," Carol said, pushing her hair back from her eyes. "I think she picked a fight with a raccoon or something."

"Of course she did," Steve sighed as he gazed mournfully at his freshly brewed cup of coffee. He'd had a restless night, waking up multiple times from dreams he would rather not think about this early in the morning. When he finally woke up at six he saw no point in trying to get any more sleep. He'd been yawning all morning. "Let me just pour this out," he said, picking up the mug as he stood.

"Hey, no, I'll take it," Peter said, surprising him.

"Really? I wouldn't take you for the black coffee type," Steve teased. "More like… I don't know… straight milk."

Peter laughed and took the mug from him. "Oh, yeah, that's totally accurate. Coffee sucks. I'm just using it as a hand warmer."

Steve chuckled. "Better get used to the cold here," he warned over his shoulder as he and Carol left the dining hall.

* * *

Why couldn't he have fixed the window crank in his car before coming back, Steve asked himself. This time it was not to satisfy the deep seated craving for forest air he struggled with on the drive yesterday; the smell of camp had a way of clinging to clothes from the moment you arrived until days after you left, especially the smell of campfire. All he would have to do is pull a bit of his coat's collar over his nose and take a deep breath in and the lingering scent of woodsmoke would transport him back to the campfire the staff held last night. Steve was tempted to do just that as he drove through the bustling, crowded city streets.

No, the reason Steve wanted so badly to be able to crack open his window was rooted in another of his senses: hearing. If he let in the sounds of the city, maybe they could provide some much-needed distraction from the indignant yowling coming from the pet crate on the passenger side. Goose, as it turned out, was not a fan of traveling in cars.

"Why do we need to go to this specific vet? Aren't there closer vets?"

It was a fairly innocent question, Steve thought, but as Carol set her jaw and clutched the carrying case even tighter, he wished he hadn't asked. "Because Doctor Lawson is the best," she said. He didn't ask her anything else other than directions until they got there.

The trip turned out to be mainly the two of them sitting in silence in the waiting room. Steve had originally tried to make conversation, but Carol seemed too stressed to want to talk so he dropped it. Looking around the waiting room, he saw that someone had left behind a newspaper.

The front page headline caught Steve's eye: _"PICNICKERS MISSING FROM CAMPGROUND."_ He picked it up. The picture they chose to accompany it was a shot of a sunrise breaking through a line of trees, with a sign in the foreground reading in large, yellow letters, _"Welcome to Amnapear Lake Campground!"_ A cartoon tree with a large smile waved at him from the sign. The picture, he inferred, was going to be the cheeriest part about this article.

_A group of four campers has been reported missing, last seen in Amnapear Lake Campground. Missing persons include Chester Yates, 24, Jim Durham, 23, Dewey Mathis, 23, and Robert Mathis, 25. Sophie Gaines, sister to Dewey and Robert Mathis, was the last to_

_Continued on Page A8_

Irritated by the interruption, Steve flipped through the paper to find page A8.

_see them before they went missing._

_'I saw them yesterday, about 11 o'clock,' says Gaines. 'They were going out to the trails to find a good spot for a picnic later. Monica hadn't woken up yet, so I told them to go on ahead and send someone back if they found someplace good. I waited for a few hours and they never returned. Monica was up by then, and, well, we decided to call the police to see if something had happened. We were really worried. We still are.'_

_Monica Stein, 22, has declined our requests for comment._

_'I know that there are already rumors going around that this case is connected to the Copper Falls disappearance,' says Officer Nash, head of the investigation. 'And I know that there are similarities. However, I can assure you that there is no connection between them.'_

Steve folded the paper and set it aside as the vet came back, resolving to bring it back to show Peter. The vet handed the carrying case to Carol, who had stood up the second the vet had walked out. Steve was relieved to notice that there were no longer screeches coming from inside it.

"We had to subdue her," the vet said in a tone implying that she was not at all surprised and assumed Carol wasn't either. "We gave her seven stitches on her left hind leg. The other cuts weren't deep enough for stitches and should heal in a few days. I know she doesn't do well with cones, so you'll just have to watch her closely to make sure she doesn't pull out the stitches."

"Thank you, Wendy," Carol said, letting her shoulders drop out of their tense position against her neck for the first time all morning.

"Of course, dear. Just bring her back in a week." Wendy pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek as a goodbye. Steve was curious about their connection, but after their conversation earlier- if you could call it that- he thought it better to leave the subject untouched.

It wasn't until they were back in the car and pulling out of the parking lot that both their phones chimed. Carol pulled hers out and frowned at the screen. "It's from Panther. The camp has a new owner and we're all supposed to meet them in forty-five minutes."

Steve took a sharp inhale. "I guess we're going to have to floor it back."

Carol laughed. "Is this car even capable of 'flooring it?' It's over a million years old."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You sound just like Buck. My car works fine."

He regretted those words twenty minutes later as they sat on the side of the road waiting for a tow truck to come help them move his broken-down car.


	3. Chapter 3: Goose Goes Missing

**Trigger warning(s): mentions of enlisting in the army, mentions of breaking an engagement, small amounts of blood**

It was only when his lungs were burning and the steady pounding of his feet on the dirt pathways became a pounding in his feet that Steve slowed down. His breath left his body raggedly as he slowed to a walk. He always went on nightly runs the first week at camp. Once the students arrived his job would oftentimes exhaust him by the end of the day and, save for the rare exception, he would be far too tired to continue them; but it also meant he wouldn't need them. The kids were a handful and working with them was a workout on its own. Not that he would trade it for anything, although Peggy would often tell him she wished he would.

Steve's expression soured at the sudden memory. The endorphin high that had carried him nearly all the way to the cabins slipped away the moment his thoughts turned back to her. They had gotten into fights almost nightly in the months leading to their split, most of them concerning their future. Steve wanted to stay at the camp. Peggy wanted to join the army. And now here he was, back at Camp Asgard with little more than a ring and half a heart, while she was god knows where with the other half.

A bright light coming from behind Steve disturbed his thoughts. He turned towards it, almost glad for the distraction, and squinted at the silhouette in the glow of the doorway to the staff cabin beckoning him over. Once he got closer and his eyes adjusted more to the light he could see that it was Peter.

"Hey," Peter said, shifting his weight to his other foot. "Why the long face?" He shifted again, craning his neck a bit to look behind Steve.

Steve gave him a long look. Peter glanced back at him but didn't meet his eyes for long. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to ask me to help you get out of trouble?"

Peter laughed a little too loudly to be convincing. "You're really funny, Mister Captain, sir! Hey so listen, I heard there's a cat that lives here, an orange one, and I really like cats. You don't happen to know where she is? Like, have you seen her recently, or…?" He trailed off at Steve's knowing smile.

"How long ago did Goose go missing?" Steve asked.

Peter's shoulders slumped in defeat as he stared at the ground. "Fifteen minutes ago," he said glumly. "I was out looking but miss Marvel will be back any minute so I had to come back here. I was supposed to be watching her to make sure she didn't bite at her stitches but she got away when I opened the door to go to the bathroom."

"Well I haven't seen her," Steve said, "but I can do the next best thing and help you look for her if you want to stay here and wait for Marvel."

Peter's face lit up immediately. "Thank you so much, mister Captain!"

"I'll be back in thirty minutes if I don't find her, less if I do," He promised before walking back to the trails.

Steve felt his heart rate and breathing eventually slow down to average rates again as he walked through the woods. Before long his watch showed twenty minutes had passed; It was now 12:41. He ought to start the walk back now, he thought, disappointed at the prospect of returning empty-handed. Peter and Marvel would both be upset that the camp's favorite pet was still missing. That being said, he would be glad to get off his feet for the day. It was a long day that he knew would be followed by an early morning.

Steve ran a hand over his face, frowning when it came away wet. He shone his flashlight on it. It was red with blood. He reached back up and identified the source as a nosebleed. How strange, he thought to himself; he hadn't had a nosebleed in years. The seasons were changing and he knew that could trigger nosebleeds for some people, but he had never been one of them. If fact, the last time he'd had one he had been socked in the face. Steve smiled at the memory, taking a moment to think back on that and several other fights James had to drag him away from. Aside from his lack of fur, he and Goose really weren't too different.

Steve's head shot up at the distinct sound of a branch snapping. Some twenty feet away loomed a human figure. He startled and raised his flashlight towards it, but the moment the light touched it, it vanished. His eye was caught again by a flash of orange in the bushes. Goose emerged, rubbing her head affectionately against his legs.

Steve glanced back at where the figure had been, but still there was nothing there. He checked his nosebleed, which was already beginning to slow, then rubbed his clean hand against his eyes wearily. He'd been running on empty all day. Yeah, it would feel nice to finally climb into bed. "Come on Goose," Steve said. Goose trotted after him back to camp. He couldn't shake the thought of that figure the whole way back.

"What happened to your face?" Carol said the moment he opened the door.

"Hello Carol," Steve said. "Yes, it is a lovely evening. You're welcome for finding your cat." Said cat pushed past him into the cabin and trotted over to Carol, who picked her up and buried her face in her fur for a moment.

"Thank you Steve," Carol said. Although Steve had been kidding about the thank you, the words clearly carried weight. He knew Carol cared about Goose, but he had never realized just how deeply she cared about her. He guessed that was another connection he was not supposed to ask the details of so he just nodded.

"Oh hey, I forgot to ask," Peter said from where he had draped himself over a couch, "where were you two earlier? You totally missed meeting meeting the new camp owner. Which sucks, by the way, because he's awesome. And way less scary than mister Fury, I think."

" Someone ," Carol said with a pointed look at Steve, "hasn't gone car shopping probably since you were born."

"I'm only, like, five years younger than you guys," Peter pointed out.

"We broke down on the way back," Steve said. "We had to get towed to a car shop and wait for them to fix it. Actually, that reminds me." He left the room to grab the paper he'd tossed on his bed earlier. He returned seconds later and handed it to Peter, then promptly collapsed into an armchair. "I brought this back for you. I thought you might like to know before your aunt starts worrying again."

Peter took the paper from him and quickly skimmed the article. "Yeah, she's gonna flip about this, and I kind of don't blame her- Amnapear is way closer. That's, like, halfway between here and Copper Falls."

Goose interrupted with a loud meow, apparently done being held. Carol allowed her to leap down. She gave Peter a calculating look before saying, "So are you going to tell us about the new camp owner?"

Anyone else may have thought the sudden change of subject odd, but Steve recognized the redirection technique from his years of experience working with kids. It had surprised him when he first started out to learn how easily the same tactics they used with children could be used with adults. He was glad Carol had picked up on the worry in Peter's face and changed the topic, because he was way too tired at this point to notice much of anything.

"Right!" Peter's features brightened almost instantly. "His name is Thor! I mean, I don't know what his name name is because he just introduced himself as Thor. He didn't stay for long, he went out into the woods. I can't remember why, but when he was here…"

Steve let his eyelids droop closed as Peter kept talking. He would just rest his eyes here for a minute, he told himself. But before long the sounds of Peter and Carol talking faded away as he drifted off into some well needed rest.


	4. Chapter 4: Rigor Mortis

_**This chapter is dedicated to the user 67 Midnight Rider**_

* * *

**Trigger warning(s): Graphic description of a corpse/decomposition, mentions of recurring nightmares**

Thor could pinpoint the exact moment Scrapper's features became guarded, and from this he knew she had at last noticed him leaning against the gate. He was a bit taken aback by how long it had taken her. The Scrapper he knew was careful, vigilant even. Though, admittedly, the version he knew was from many years ago. She was so much younger then. Thor was happy to see that she had finally found a place where she felt safe enough to drop this habit.

Scrapper elected to ignore him, instead turning her attention back to brushing the horse in front of her. This didn't surprise Thor, although it had yesterday. He had expected a warmer welcome from her when he met with the staff as the new camp owner. He had received this welcome from nearly everyone else. What he had gotten from her was a dirty look and a quick exit.

"Continuing the silent treatment, then?" Thor called, pushing himself off the gate and walking towards her.

Scrapper didn't respond at first. It wasn't until Thor was standing only a few paces from her that she spoke, still keeping her eyes fixed on the horse in front of her. "If you're looking for a happy reunion, I'd look elsewhere if you want to keep all of your blood inside your body."

"I didn't know you worked here when I signed on as camp owner," Thor said. He didn't get a response, so he continued. "You've changed," he said. He hadn't meant it as an insult- rather the opposite- but from the expression she now wore, she had clearly heard it as one.

"That's what happens when time passes," she said. She looked him over with apparent disgust. "At least for the rest of us."

"I couldn't just stay away from everything. Obviously you couldn't either, Scrapper-"

The words had barely left his mouth before he found himself falling backwards. Thor had made the mistake of getting to close when he said this, and she had taken the opportunity to kick his legs out from under him. He lay on the ground, struggling to catch his breath that had been knocked out of him. She mounted the horse in front of her. Only once she was atop it did she look downwards at him to say, "My name is Valkyrie now." With that she rode off.

Thor groaned and pushed himself up. Yes, definitely not the welcome he had expected.

* * *

Ancient Egyptians worshipped cats to the point that killing one was a serious criminal offense. Muslim culture also had a long history of holding cats in high esteem. Cats were brought on long voyages as good luck charms before women were even allowed aboard. Sometimes Steve got the feeling that Goose was well aware of these things and very offended that her kind was no longer awarded such privilege. This was one of those times.

Neither broke eye contact. Slowly, Steve extended his hand towards where she had perched herself on the top of a cabinet. "Goose," he said. "May I please have my bagel back?"

Goose bristled, angling her body between him and it. Steve stopped but didn't retract his hand. A tense moment passed. She hissed. He narrowed his eyes. In one swift movement, she picked up the bread in her jaws and leapt onto a table below and then out the window.

Steve cursed under his breath as he ran towards the door. He grabbed his jacket from the table as he passed, almost as an afterthought. The moment the door was open he was glad he had. The air hit him like a wall of ice. His breath clouded in front of him. He frowned. The seasons had begun to shift lately and the weather was heating up, almost to the point where he didn't need a jacket.

Out of the corner of his eye Steve saw Goose bolting down a trail that lead into the woods. He hastened to pull on his coat as he ran after, thankful that he had happened to grab one of his thicker winter coats. Steve stumbled over rocks and tree roots as he ran but was able to keep his balance. Further down the trail in front of him Goose reached a fork. As he predicted, she turned left towards Marvel's cabin.

The trail was downhill from there. Steve struggled to run down the slope without gaining so much momentum he would fall. He'd hiked this trail many times before with campers, and every season there was one or two who would disregard his warnings and trip of fall down the hill. At the bottom of the hill the trail opened into a grass clearing.

Goose had stopped running and was now sitting some twenty feet away. He bent over heaving for a few moments. When he was finally able to manage his breath a bit better, he looked up to see her trotting into the clearing. At the center was a mass of black, too far away to make out immediately. He identified them as crows only when they took off at the sight of Goose approaching to reveal a figure lying in the grass.

Steve took a sharp inhale and sprinted over, thinking over the basic first aid training he had. He stopped short of reaching the figure when a pungent smell overtook him. He pulled his shirt over his nose. When he looked back at the figure what he saw was a corpse.

The yellow-green flesh hung loosely from the body in some places as if it were a size too big and in other places had been ripped away from the body. Part of the intestines were strewn out next to the body. Maggots infested the open abdomen. Some of the exposed muscles- those which hadn't already been picked apart by scavengers- looked to be starting to liquify as the body decomposed. Had he not had prior experience with cadavers, the sight before him would have been barely recognizable as a human body.

Steve stumbled backwards. Pain sparked in his chest as his heart pounded faster and harder. Before him, Goose walked to where he assumed the body's feet had once been and dropped the toast she had carried here. Had she known the body was here? Steve almost went so far as to ask the question aloud, and he might have if he had felt that his throat could open up enough for his words to make it out.

Goose meowed loudly, looking around herself. At her side a shadowy figure materialized. It was the same figure from the woods the night before.

Steve awoke with a start. He scrambled to reach the bedside lamp and flicked on the light. He was still in his bed, still in the room he and some of the other male staff occupied, still safe. His face felt slick with sweat and his shirt clung uncomfortably to his back with the moisture of it. He ran a hand over his face regardless. What the hell was that?

Steve had not gotten the best sleep lately. His nights were often spent waking up in a cold sweat these days. This was his fourth day back at the camp and with each passing day he felt more exhausted. This morning had passed in a haze of tiredness until he had almost fallen asleep into his lunch, at which point T'challa felt the need to intervene. Steve was on strict orders to get some rest that afternoon. Despite his initial protests, he ultimitely caved. Unfortunately it seemed that it didn't matter if he slept at night or during the day, because both gave him the same result: restless sleep plagued by nightmares.

Steve frowned to himself as he recalled the dream in vivid detail. This was not his average nightmare. He was used to that one after having it every night since Peggy left. This one had come out of nowhere. It had felt so real. He could feel the cold air on his skin and the warmth of the coat. He could smell the rotting corpse. His stomach turned at the memory

Steve stood and opened the curtains, letting the afternoon sun's light pour into the room. He looked down from the second floor window to the ground below at Tony and James talking and cutting firewood for campfire. He smiled faintly at the sight. Knowing them, Tony had likely turned it into a competition and James had been quick to take up the challenge. He continued watching them, letting the simplicity and routineness of the activity calm his still pounding heart.

After a few minutes, Steve let his gaze wander away from them. Bruce and Wanda were listening to Peter, who was gesturing emphatically. T'challa was sitting alone writing on a clipboard. Goose was disappearing into the woods. No one seemed to notice.

Steve took advantage of having the room to himself to let out a loud groan. If he ever found out what it was with her and the woods he would consider his life a success. For now all he could do was chase after her.


	5. Chapter 5: Woods Have Ears

**Trigger warning(s): mentions of recurring nightmares, small amounts of blood**

Steve shot off a quick text to Carol letting her know Goose was in the woods again and he was going after her. Or at least it was meant to say that, but with how fast he was rushing it came out, 'Goode in woods, going afternoon here.' He reminded himself to ask Tony about turning off auto-suggest and pressed send without correcting the mistakes. Carol could figure it out.

Steve was only out the door a few moments when a voice from behind stopped him.

"Captain! Will you join me for a moment?"

Steve turned to face T'challa, who was still sitting where he had seen him from the window. With anyone else he could have explained the situation he was in and politely declined, but as T'challa was technically his boss, Steve felt he didn't have that option. He made his way over, casting a tentative look over his shoulder at the trail Goose had disappeared down moments before.

"How are you feeling?"

The truth was that Steve had a raging headache and was starting to feel, if possible, even wearier than he had that morning. T'challa was looking at him with such concern that he almost lied to soothe his worry. The two had worked together for years. In fact, the majority of the staff had. T'challa was still very much his boss but they all considered each other family. As a family, they trusted each other implicitly. Besides that, Steve was pretty sure that just by looking at him T'challa could tell that he wasn't doing well.

"Not great," Steve said as he took a seat next to him. "But I appreciate the opportunity to rest."

A part of Steve wanted to confess to T'challa the strange dream he'd had, but doing so meant acknowledging that the dream was different than the nightmares he had already been suffering from. He had yet to confide in anybody about them, though it was common knowledge that he had them. Steve knew T'challa was too polite to ever inquire about the nightmares, but he still felt reluctant to acknowledge them.

T'challa nodded quietly. "I see. Given that the children won't be arriving for another week, I'm sure the whole team would understand if you took a few more days off. And even if they do object, I'm in charge and I say you can," T'challa said with a wry smile.

Steve chuckled. "Thank you, Panther. It means a lot." he said.

"I can see you're in the middle of something, so I won't keep you from it," T'challa said, standing up. He looked as if he wanted to say something else but wasn't sure how to phrase it. After a beat he rested a hand on Steve's shoulder. "We're all here for you, Captain. Everyone here cares about you deeply. Just… Don't hesitate to reach out."

"I won't," Steve promised.

It was only a couple of seconds after T'challa had taken his leave that Steve remembered Goose. He cursed under his breath and hurried to the trailhead.

Goose, as the unofficial camp pet, had always been allowed to wander the trails so long as she kept herself out of trouble. However, they were on strict orders from Doctor Lawson to keep a close eye on her due to the stitches. Goose seemed not to have gotten the memo about her house arrest. Or, more likely, she was well aware and actively resistant. Fortunately for him, Goose had a tendency to stick to the path rather than stray into the open forest, which would make finding her a lot easier.

Steve was well into the woods when he heard the voices. Somewhere, not far off, there was yelling. He almost turned around to give whoever was out here some privacy with what was clearly a heated argument. As he stood there deciding whether to do so or continue his search it occurred to him that the voice wasn't familiar to him.

Steve frowned to himself. He knew everyone on camp staff well enough to pick out their voices, even those he wasn't particularly close to. What were strangers doing trespassing in the woods? He crept forward down, unsure as of yet to whether or not he wanted to make his presence known.

Once Steve got close enough he was able to pick up on the second voice. It was calmer, more collected, and as such didn't carry like the other.

"Brother, be reasonable," the second voice chastised. "You can hardly expect to waltz back into her life as you have done, and for everything to return to the way it was."

"You're one to talk of reason," the first voice boomed. "Was it not you who ripped us out of her life to begin with? Was it not you who insisted that to get too close to a Midgardian was a death sentence? And yet here you are, in a forest full of them!"

"You know why I must be here."

Steve was nearly close enough to the voices to be able to see them. He glanced down at the forest floor to step around anything that would snap or crunch too loudly. As he was looking down, drops of red fell onto the dirt at his feet to form dark splatters. He reached to feel his face. His nose was bleeding again.

"Yes, yes, I know." The first voice sounded suddenly exhausted. Steve found himself empathizing with them near immediately. "I just don't see why we can't confront the issue at the source-"

"Because," the second voice said, beginning to sound impatient, "this is not a problem you can run at head on like you always do. It's so much more complicated than that this time. We have a plan. Stick to it."

At once, the voices halted.

"Someone else is here," the second voice said. "I have to go."

Steve wondered if he should stand his ground or advance. The indecision ate up a few seconds too many. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out onto the trail a few feet in front of him.

The man did not look at all surprised to find Steve there. He held his hand out towards him. "Good afternoon. Captain, isn't it?" At Steve's puzzled expression, he hastened to add, "I'm Thor, the new camp owner. I've heard much about you."

Steve took his hand to shake. The smile Thor gave him could have read as genuine had it not been for the immense tiredness that was apparent in his expression. It was like looking in a mirror, Steve thought. Something about that shared experience put him at ease around Thor, and he smiled back.

"Same here," Steve said. He wondered if it would be considered rude to ask who Thor had been talking to. He settled on saying, "It's a pleasure to finally meet the man Spider keeps raving about. By the way, did you happen to see an orange cat run by this way?"

"Ah, the camp pet. Duck, is it? No, I'm afraid I haven't," Thor said. "If I may ask, why is there blood on your shirt? Are you alright?"

Steve felt his face. It was bone dry. "That's strange," he said, half to himself. "I was having a nosebleed just a moment ago."

The conversation was interrupted by a notification sounding off from Steve's phone. He pulled it out of his pocket to find a message from Carol that read, 'What are you talking about? Goose is right here.' accompanying it was a picture of Goose curled up in Carol's lap.

Thor, seeing the picture, said, "It looks like your furry friend has been found. I suggest you return to camp- you look as though you're about to fall over."

Truth be told, Steve felt as though he could collapse at any moment, but not from the fatigue he felt. "Yeah," he said as he stared at his phone. "That sounds like a good idea."

* * *

Loki watched his brother and the Midgardian retreat down the path before he felt comfortable stepping out of the shadows. He didn't like how close the man- Captain? Midgardian names were so odd- had been able to get before he had noticed his presence. He wasn't meant for this place. It was draining him. He shuddered to think what would become of him should he be stuck here much longer.

He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He had seen Captain in the woods before. Had it been days ago, or perhaps even weeks? Time was fuzzy here for him. Captain had now nearly spotted him for a second time. None of the other staff that Thor had spoken of had even seen him once. Captain was too often in the woods, and given his behavior he could clearly become too eager to meddle with things beyond what he should, Loki concluded. He would have to stay wary of him for now. He was more dangerous than he knew.


	6. Chapter 6: China Doll

**Trigger warning(s): neglect of physical health, near death experience**

**Spoiler warning(s): spoilers for _The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane_ **

"I know I don't have to. I still want to," Steve said. He looked out into the still blue water. It held his gaze. Neither dared break eye contact. He was scarcely one to back down from a challenge, and this was not one of those times.

"I know, but I still think it's a bad idea," James said.

A breeze rippled the surface where Steve had been staring. He cracked a smile. The water had broken eye contact first.

"Buck, it'll be fine," Steve said, finally looking away from the water and towards James. "I've been swimming in this lake practically my whole life. I'm pretty sure it knows me better than I know myself at this point."

James barked a laugh. "Cap, I swear, do you have to pack bond with every inanimate object in your life? Let it just be a lake. I know you're the swimming instructor and all, but you don't see me talking about my tomahawks like that."

Steve grinned but returned his attention to the lake. "No, that would be weird. You'd scare off the campers."

James clapped him on the shoulder. "I already know I won't be able to talk you out of this. I just had to pretend to try so that when you show up at Witch's office complaining that you nearly drowned, I'll have plausible deniability."

Steve watched James walk down the dock to the shore and disappear back down the trails. He wasn't concerned about what he was about to do. He knew that if there was any actual risk James wouldn't have let him off the hook.

Every year, the campers who were older and had shown themselves to be strong swimmers would be allowed to try to swim across the lake and back. Most only made it across one way. Before the kids arrived Steve liked to swim the lake forward and back himself at least once. Despite him doing this every single year and walking out of it fine, a few staff members had advised him against it earlier that morning. Steve had politely thanked them for their concern but otherwise brushed off the comments. Just because he'd been falling a bit behind lately didn't mean he couldn't still carry on like always.

Steve had to believe that he could still carry on. This year especially.

He took a deep breath and jumped in.

The water was on the colder side. As a lake located in the heart of the pacific northwest it would remain somewhat chilly year round. That being said, the summer sun would continue to warm it up as the season progressed and soon it wouldn't be quite as biting.

Steve didn't mind the cold. He welcomed the way it chilled his skin. Sometimes he felt as though his only purpose was to create memories in other people's lives. He could feel the cold lake press into him and dig its fingernails into his arms, his legs, his back. It reminded him that he was still there. He was not just a memory.

Spots began to appear in Steve's vision roughly halfway to the other side of the lake. He stopped swimming forward to pull off his goggles. His vision was still fuzzy. He had been so focused on the feeling of the water on his skin that he had completely failed to notice that his muscles had already grown heavy and sore. Then all at once the light faded from Steve's eyes altogether and the lake's hands which had been holding him afloat pulled him down beneath the surface.

* * *

_"I bet you didn't think I'd come back. But here I am. I come to save you."_

_Too late, thought Edward as Bryce climbed the pole and worked at the wires that were tied around his wrist. I am nothing but a hollow rabbit. Too late, thought Edward as Bryce pulled the nails out of his ears. I am only a doll made of china._

_But when the last nail was out and he fell forward into Bryce's arms, the rabbit felt a rush of relief, and the feeling of relief was followed by one of joy. Perhaps, he thought, it is not too late, after all, for me to be saved._

Loki looked up from the book at Heron, who was curled up on the forest floor in front of him with her eyes closed. She would have looked to be asleep but her twitching ears betrayed her. "Are you even listening?" She gave him no response.

Loki closed the book and set it down beside him. He couldn't blame Heron. This was the third- or perhaps the fourth?- time in a row that he'd read it aloud to the cat in the past week or so. Thor had brought it to him after finding it in a bookstore at the nearest town. 'Here,' he said, 'maybe now you'll have something better to do with your time than pestering the forest animals all day.' Loki might have argued that he was hardly pestering anybody if he hadn't been so excited to get his hands on a book again.

The book was about a rabbit doll who was separated from the little girl that owned him and suffered many hardships until they were finally reunited at the end of the book. If Loki were to ask Thor to recount their history as brothers, he no doubt would tell a similar tale to the one between these pages. Subtlety had never been his strong suit. Besides Thor's sentimentality, the book actually struck Loki as quite charming.

"You can at least pretend to pay att-"

Loki's words cut off abruptly as pain bloomed rapidly in his chest. He fought to draw in a shaky breath. A thick fog clouded his head. He knew this feeling. It was the feeling of a death not yet delivered but drawing nearer by the second. He pushed himself up, startling Heron. It took every ounce of effort to take another thin inhale. His eyes searched around him frantically.

After a moment of all the focus Loki could spare the direction came to him. He stumbled down the trail, letting intuition guide him, until he fell at last to his knees at the edge of the lake. His eyes picked out a figure sinking downwards. The fog and pain dissipated. He took a gasping breath. It took only a moment to shed his coat and dive into the lake.

The sun had barely broken the horizon and without its light Loki was plunged into darkness. Once more he let intuition guide him. He pulled himself through the water to the bottom of the lake. Loki's fingers reached forward and found a face. His lungs burned for air. He fumbled to find an arm and clutched it tightly. He didn't release it until they were on the bank.

Loki blinked the water from his stinging eyes and looked over to see whose body it was he had just dragged from the depths of the lake. It was the Captain. He lifted the Captain's wrist to check for a pulse. He frowned when he felt nothing and reached for his neck. No, it was there, but faint and slowing. He could feel the death fog wafting off of him. It was picking up by the second.

Heron trotted out of the forest and came to crouch beside his form. She meowed twice, once at the Captain and then again at Loki. Both sounded uncertain.

Loki pressed his palms firmly into the Captain's chest. He closed his eyes and pushed everything out of his mind. He needed complete focus. Slowly, he was able to guide the energy out of him through his hands into the Captain's body. It trickled through at first and increased its flow until it was a steady stream. His focus was broken at the sound of a cough.

Loki snatched back his hands. The Captain rolled onto his side and continued coughing up water until he was able to heave a shaky breath. With great effort, he pushed himself into a sitting position. He blinked several times before looking up at Loki.

Seconds passed in tense silence. The Captain's eyes asked questions that Loki didn't have the energy to answer. He had been reckless in his desperation to ward off the stench of death and poured too much of his energy into the other man.

"Ti eídous tou kapetániou den boreí na kolympísei?" Loki muttered to himself as he stood. In English, he told the Captain, "Go to Thor when you have the strength. He'll know what to do." Leave the damage control to his brother. He was far too exhausted. He turned to leave.

Loki stopped at a hand on his wrist.

"Please," the Captain spoke in a raspy whisper. It was all his lungs could handle at the moment. "Who are you?"

_Look at me, he said to her. His arms and legs jerked. Look at me. You got your wish. I have learned how to love. And it's a terrible thing. I am broken. My heart is broken. Help me. The old woman turned and hobbled away. Come back, thought Edward. Fix me._

* * *

_**Note: "Ti eídous tou kapetániou den boreí na kolympísei?" is Greek for "What kind of a captain can't swim?"**_

**_The book quoted in this chapter is called "The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane"_**


	7. Chapter 7: The Woodpecker

**Trigger warning(s): small amounts of blood**

Steve blinked up at the figure looming over him. The question hung in the air between them.

The man had long black hair which framed an angular face with piercing grey eyes. A scar ran down the center of his forehead towards the bridge of his nose where it bent left and extended over his cheek. His skin was pale, almost ghostly. He had thin lips with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline.

All of these features, though striking, were vastly overshadowed by the long, curved horns extending from his temples. The skin around the base of the horns was scarred as well, as though the horns had pushed through his skin all at once rather than having grown naturally. If it could be called natural.

The man fixed his eyes on Steve with such intensity that it finally occurred to him, belated as it was, to feel afraid.

When he spoke, it was with a deep, low voice. "Your nose is bleeding."

Steve raised a shivering hand to his face. His fingers came away coated in a thick layer of red. His face must be covered in it.

"Don't worry," the man said. "It will stop soon."

He glanced down at a light pressure against his side to see Goose rubbing herself against him. "Hey Goose," he said, though it still came out as little more than a whisper. She purred loudly. Her whole torso rumbled with the vibrations.

The man sighed. "Is that what they're calling you these days, gatáki? How undignified."

Steve's eyes tracked the man as he passed by him. He picked up a discarded jacket from the ground, then turned and held it out to him. Steve grabbed it quickly and wrapped it around himself.

The man was still staring at Steve. He met his gaze. A long moment passed. He looked to be weighing his options. Finally, he turned toward the lake and walked to the edge of it.

"Thor is going to have my head if he sees you in this state," he said, half to himself.

That was the second time he had mentioned Thor, Steve noticed. Why, and for how long, had he been in the woods? From the way he talked about Thor, the two knew each other well. Maybe Thor would have the answers. Yes, he decided wearily, Thor would know. No need to find the answers himself, then. He let his eyes slide shut and his body slumped back to the ground.

Steve's eyes snapped open moments later at a sudden, sharp pain on his cheek. The man, now crouched beside him, lowered his hand from striking him. "I apologize," he said. He propped him up into a sitting position. "Can't have you blacking out again." He raised a wet cloth to Steve's face and gently began wiping away the blood.

"Your name," Steve mumbled.

"Hm? Oh, its… Edward."

Edward brought up a hand to hold up Steve's head when it lolled to the side.

"Goose," Steve said, though using his voice still made his chest burn worse than it already did. The cat in question perked up where she was sitting next to him and continued to purr like a motor.

"Stop talking," Edward said softly but with authority. "Focus on my voice. Yes, I know her. I met her some years ago. She stole a sandwich from me. My brother was quite smitten with her and over time I grew fond of her as well. I need to bring you to Thor. I'm going to pick you up now, is that okay?"

It took Steve a moment to register the question. He gave a small nod. Edward set aside the rag and picked Steve up bridal style.

Edward carried Steve into the woods with Goose trailing after them. As he did so, he told him a story.

"Once upon a time, there was a mouse who lived in a forest. The mouse was sad because he was the only animal trapped on the ground. The squirrels could reach the treetops, the birds could take to the sky, and the bears were big enough to climb the tallest hilltops. He looked up at all the trees and the sky and thought, 'How wonderful it would be if I had wings to soar above the clouds, and then I could be happy.'

Steve drank in Edward's body heat until soon his shivering stopped. He concentrated on the story and let all thoughts of the pain in his chest float away. Edward's voice was soft and warm, and Steve wondered how he wasn't supposed to fall asleep to such a soothing sound.

"A fox saw the mouse looking up at the sky one day and asked him what was wrong. The mouse told him about his desires. The fox laughed and said, 'Such a silly dream for a mouse, but if you want it that badly I shall help you.' He took in his mouth two small leaves, which he dipped in sap and affixed to the mouse's back. 'You are so small that these leaves are all you will need to fly. If you take a running start, you can take off into the air.'"

"The mouse backed up and ran forward as fast as his legs can carry him- right into a hole. The fox laughed and laughed. 'Foolish mouse,' he said. 'You are too trusting. I'm going hunting, and when I come back I will eat you for desert.'

Every few sentences, Edward would have to duck his head a bit so that his horns wouldn't catch on low hanging boughs. He paused now in his story to step over a large tangle of branches which had fallen into the middle of the path. He took great care in maneuvering Steve through in such a way that his skin wouldn't scrape across the sticks jutting out from them. When they had made it safely past, he continued the tale.

"Once the fox had left, a curious woodpecker perched on the edge of the hole and looked down at the mouse. She asked what had happened, and he told her. 'Why don't you dig your way out?' she asked.

"'My leg is broken,' he said. 'I can't dig.'

"The woodpecker felt bad for the mouse. Days passed and the fox did not return, but the woodpecker came back every day. She brought him food and sang him songs. Every day the two of them fell a little bit more in love until one day his leg had healed and he could dig his way out of the hole. And the mouse found that he was no longer unhappy with his life on the ground, because when he was with her he already felt like he was flying."

Steve smiled to himself. What a lovely story.

Edward glanced down at him. His lips twitched into something that, for a moment, was almost a smile. "My mother used to tell me that story before bed. My brother had little patience for tales that didn't involve conquest or battles, but I loved that story. She would tell it nearly every night."

"Tha's lovely," Steve mumbled.

Edward had gotten a far off look in his eyes. "Yes, it was."

Steve parted his mouth to speak again, but Edward shushed him lightly. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

He listened. From somewhere above them came a quiet, thrumming sound.

"It's a red breasted sapsucker." Edward looked down at Steve's quizzical expression. "You can tell because its drumming is slow and irregular. With other woodpeckers, the sound is quicker and more consistent."

His eyes flicked back up towards the trees. "Do you see him?"

Steve searched until he was able to pinpoint the sound. He nodded. The two of them shared a still silence as they watched the bird together.

"Must be a sign," Steve whispered. His voice came out roughly still, but less hoarsely than it had been.

Edward frowned down at him. "Of what?"

"What has happened here?" a voice thundered so loudly that Steve flinched. The bird flew off.

Edward appeared unphased. His expression had smoothed over into one more neutral. "Thor, always a pleasure," he said dryly. All the warmth had evaporated from his voice. "The Captain was drowning. I… intervened."

Thor looked about ready to blow a fuse. "You know what happens when you intervene, Loki!"

"So much for the alias," Edward muttered to himself.

Things were too confusing right now for how fuzzy Steve's thoughts were and it made his head pound even more trying to keep up. As the two continued to fight he turned his face into Edward's chest and let his eyes droop closed. The sound of his heartbeat soon lulled him to sleep.

* * *

**_Note: "Gatáki" is Greek for "kitten"_**


End file.
